


It Won't Be Me

by csi_sanders1129



Category: Haven - Fandom
Genre: Community: cottoncandy_bingo, Established Relationship, Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Self-Harm, Tattoos, weird affectionate gesture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-22
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2018-01-20 09:20:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1505078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/csi_sanders1129/pseuds/csi_sanders1129
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Nathan tries to get rid of his tattoo for Duke's benefit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Won't Be Me

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to cottoncandy_bingo prompt: weird affectionate gesture. First Haven fic, and I haven't really written fluff in forever, so this was just plain weird for me. Audrey is not mentioned, and this would be a future!fic kind of thing. Hope no one is too OOC. Characters are not mine, please enjoy! Comments are awesome.

"Nathan!"

Nathan jumps in surprise at Duke's voice, but that's nothing compared to the confused worry that comes with seeing the other man with the blade of a knife pressed against his arm. Duke rushes forward, pulls the weapon away. He tosses it aside, toward the sink in the galley of the _Cape Rouge_.

"Nathan, what the hell are you doing?"

"Relax," Nathan tells him, waving away his friend before he can work himself up too much. "It was nothing." He moves to go back to the dishes he'd been doing when Duke had left him for a moment, the remnants of a shared meal still piled on the counter.

"Ugh," Duke stares, catches his arm to keep him escaping, "I'm pretty sure pointing knives at yourself is generally cause for concern, but what do I know, you're the cop."

Nathan rolls his eyes at the sarcasm, though he should be used to it by now, really, after so much time spent with the other man, and moves to pick up the knife again. Duke grabs it up first.

"Seriously, what's going on? I know the Troubles are gone now, but if you want to feel pain so badly, I could just punch you in the face?"

"Ha," is the dry reply he gets for that longstanding offer. "Just because I can feel again doesn't mean I want to feel pain - I'm not a masochist. I'm much happier with the pleasure side of things, I think."

"Could have fooled me," Duke answers, twirling the knife in his hand to bring the point home.

"Look," Nathan sighs, "I was trying to do something nice for you, okay? Just give me the damn knife."

"What? How exactly is that supposed to make me want to give you a weapon? Last time I checked, I've spent a purely ridiculous amount of time making sure you don't get hurt." Duke folds his arms across his chest and considers carefully the sanity of the man before him. "Please," he says, "explain this for me."

Nathan shakes his head and sidesteps out of Duke's reach. He grabs up another knife, there are plenty - it is a kitchen, after all. Before Duke can stop him, he presses it over the tattoo that marks the members of the Guard, though he's never really been one of them. "This is all I was planning."

"Oh." Duke blinks at him, and his hands drop to his sides, as he no longer fears for Nathan's immediate safety or sanity. "Well. That's a... weirdly affectionate gesture, I guess."

"Overreact much?"

"Look, I've seen you dead. I am allowed to overreact."

Nathan ignores the reminder of that particular incident and moves to make the cut that will ruin the tattoo - and there's a couple hundred bucks out the window - but Duke stops that, too.

"Wait," he says, "don't."

Nathan looks surprised, but the hand that lands on his arm, the fingers moving smoothly over his skin, do still his movements. "Why not? I'm not typically inclined to kill you these days," he teases, "And you were freaked out enough when you realized I had it..."

"Yeah, before I knew half the town had it and, might I add, I discovered that you did when you came here to kill me for something I didn't do?" Duke defends, and notes the apologetic look that flashes across Nathan's face over that particular fight. Even still, he won't let Nathan make the move. "It doesn't matter that you have the tattoo, Nathan. Either you don't kill me, which would be great and is pretty much what I expect, or you do."

"Duke," Nathan cuts him off, "It's not going to be me. If you really think I'd ever-"

"One day, when we're really, really old," he explains, with a stupid grin on his face.

Nathan sets the knife back on the counter without any further attempts to remove himself from the lengthy list of people who can kill Duke, "Who says I'm gonna put up with you that long?" He counters, but the matching grin on his own face takes the threat out of the words.

"Like you could get rid of me," Duke snarks back, hands sliding around Nathan's waist, fingers sliding under his shirt to press against skin here and there. Duke is drawn in closer, until their bodies are pressed together. "If you haven't managed it yet, I don't think you ever will."

"Yeah, well, it's too late to start trying now," Nathan says, and anything else is lost when Duke kisses him, a light, lingering press of lips on lips that Duke always uses because somehow he found out that Nathan likes it, relishes any sensation there, even now that he can feel everything.

By the time Duke walks them back to the entrance to his room - their room, really, since Nathan stays on the boat more often than not these days - their shirts have been shed, jeans have been undone. Hands wander over bared skin, and sometimes Duke forgets how much Nathan enjoys this part, just touching, feeling. Nathan always ends up drawn to his own tattoos at some point, and he claims that the skin over them feels just the smallest bit different from everything unmarked. Duke never really noticed one way or the other, but he steals another teasing kiss, lets his fingers drag over Nathan's this time.

Nathan's eyes dart up to meet his at the contact, and Duke finds that he really isn't worried about the tattoo anymore. Not like he used to be - so many people have the damn thing, all over the country, that he might as well not know how he dies. "Keep it, really."

Nathan shrugs, nods in reluctant agreement. "If that's what you want," he answers.

"I just want you."


End file.
